


Books And Love

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: FitzSimmons AUs [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aphasia, Brain Damage, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, Light Angst, bookshop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: "The young woman comes into his little bookshop every Saturday at half past three.When she opens the door, it's as if a part of the sun decided to pay him a visit.Her mere presence fills Fitz heart with bright warmth."*Leo Fitz owns a bookshop. He tells himself he's happy with his calm, peaceful life. But his sketches of spaceships tell otherwise.Jemma Simmons feels trapped in a life she doesn't belong to. She wants to live her own dreams, not those of her parents.They meet and it feels just right.





	Books And Love

The young woman comes into his little bookshop every Saturday at half past three. When she opens the door, it's as if a part of the sun decided to pay him a visit. Her mere presence fills Fitz heart with bright warmth.

Her visit always follows a pattern. She greets Fitz, a lost look in her eyes, a soft smile on her face. She pats Gatsby, the bookshop cat - who someday sat in front of Fitz with wide open pleading eyes and a hurt paw - on the head. And then she starts searching the shelves. She taps a single finger against her perfect, rosy lips in a steady rhythm, her eyes full of concentration.   

Fitz watches her furtively. He knows the exact moment in which she finds what she's searching for. He sees it first in her eyes which start to sparkle in excitement. A second later her lips curl into a pleased smile. Her finger stops tapping and instead strokes over the back of the book she chose. She takes it out carefully, almost reverently. Finally she sits down on the small, dusty couch standing in a corner of the bookshop, leans back and starts to read.

Sometimes, Gatsby goes to her, laying on her lap, purring softly. She strokes his head distractedly.

Saturdays are Fitz’s favourite days.

   
Sometimes, he asks himself, why she comes here. Not many people make the journey to this bookshop, hidden in a corner between an antiquary and an abandoned hotel. After all, there are a lot of bookshops in this town. Most of them are bigger, more modern and most of all, they are tidy.

His bookshop is what most people would call a mess. It’s dusky, stuffy and dusty. And the books really are everywhere. Since the shelves are already on the verge of cracking under their heavy load, there are unsteady stacks of books on the floor too. The narrow hallways are like a maze of books. Even his own small counter is buried in them. Gatsby uses to lay on the heaps of books, watching him reading or drawing.

Fitz doesn’t mind how his bookshop is looking. The apparent mess makes him feel comfy. And he knows where everything’s supposed to be. He has the order in his head.

Since he doesn’t really have a lot to do, he’s killing the time by reading book after book or sketching things he sees in his mind, that are urging him to express them somehow. Things like spaceships. Since he has been a kid, he was fascinated by them. He always wanted to build one himself.

Well, until the accident, that was.

On one Saturday, he’s quite absorbed with a sketch of a spaceship. In his concentration, he doesn’t notice the light steps, approaching his counter.

“This is really good.”

Fitz freezes. He slowly looks up, right into the smiling face of the young woman, who stopped reading and is carrying a small stack of books in her arms. Her eyes are hazel. They are warm and for a moment Fitz feels like he might drown in them. “Um,” he makes, feeling his face burn. 

“It’s good. I think you're very talented,” she repeats, then lays the books on the counter. She smiles at Gatsby, who is sleeping on some science fiction novels and a book about monkeys.  

“Thanks,” Fitz mumbles. His hand is shaking, when he takes out her change.

“I’m Jemma,” the young woman suddenly says. “Jemma Simmons. I thought I should at least introduce myself, if I come here every week, reading for hours.” She smiles a bit embarrassedly, wiping a lost strand of hair out of her face. Fitz's eyes follows the movement almost hypnotized. “I hope you don’t mind I’m staying that long.”

“No,” he says. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Okay.” She looks relieved. “I really like your bookshop. It has its own magic, you know? And your cat is a great assistant.” She carefully strokes Gatsby’s back, who makes a happy noise.

“He is,” Fitz nods.

There’s a moment of silence.

Jemma almost seems as if she’s waiting for something.

 _Oh._ He didn’t introduce himself, Fitz realizes startled. Stupid. And rude, he scolds himself. “I’m Leo Fitz,” he says quickly. “But I prefer just Fitz.”

Jemma smiles.

They look each other in the eye. Something’s in the air between them. Something, that makes Fitz’s skin tingle in pleasant way.

“Bye, Fitz,” Jemma eventually says, taking up her stack of books. “Until next week.”

Then she’s gone.

Fitz looks after her. This is the longest he spoke to someone for ages, he realizes.

Gatsby stares at him with one eye, almost knowingly.

*

It takes Fitz three more Saturdays, until he allows himself to realize, that he’s in love. Desperately. Jemma’s name is like a prayer on his lips. Her presence makes his stomach flutter and his heart beat faster. He feels warm when she’s near, and cold when she’s gone. She’s indeed like the sun. And he wants to be in her light constantly, but he doesn’t even know, if she feels something for him too. But he knows, that she likes his bookshop and his drawings.  
  
He knows, that there’s a certain kind of question in her eyes, when she looks at him before she leaves. He knows, that she seems to like to be around him too.  
  
And oh he hopes, he will be brave enough one day, to ask her the question that could be the start or the end of something.

 

It takes him one more Saturday, to dare to ask Jemma out. “I wondered, if you, um, would fancy dinner sometime? With me?”

She looks up at him from the couch, surprised. But then, a smile starts to spread on her face. “I’d like that,” she says softly.

“Great,” Fitz breathes happily.

*

Fitz books a table for them in a nice restaurant near the harbour. From there, they will be able to watch the calm, light blue ocean and the seagulls, that are circling in the sky above.

He’s so excited that he has trouble with closing the buttons of his blue shirt. Gatsby watches him mildly interested, while he curses himself and his hand that won’t stop shaking. It also reminds him that Jemma still doesn’t know … He will have to tell her at some point. About what’s wrong with him. The thought makes his throat clench. He quickly distracts himself with the happiness he feels, when he thinks of Jemma and her beautiful, warm eyes. “Be good,” he tells Gatsby when he leaves, who makes an annoyed noice, as if he wants to tell Fitz that he’s always good.

  
Jemma waits for him in front of the restaurant. She looks beautiful, in her light blue dress. When she smiles at him, Fitz feels his stomach drop.

They hug a bit awkwardly.

“You, um, you are … you look … You look great,” Fitz stammers. Immediately, his face starts to burn and he knows he’s blushing. His stuttering his more pronounced today than usual. As is his hand shaking. He feels the sudden urge to hide his bad hand behind his back.

But Jemma just smiles in that certain way, that makes Fitz’s stomach flutter and says, “Thanks. You too look great.”

Fitz pushes the chair out for Jemma and this time she’s the one who blushes.

  
They look at each other, then quickly down at their menus.

Jemma suddenly giggles.

Fitz looks at her questioningly.

“I guess I’m a bit nervous,” Jemma tells him openly. “I never was invited to such a restaurant. My parents own a farm nearby.”

Fitz’s eyes widen. “They own a farm? Wow.”

But Jemma’s eyes suddenly darken. She shakes her head. “Yes. They are very … proud of their farm,” she mumbles. Then she clears her throat and says, “I really don’t know what I’m supposed to eat,” in a way too cheerful voice.

Fitz frowns. But he doesn’t urge her on. Instead, he tries to help her picking a dish.

A little while later, they attend to their red wine and fish dishes. It’s delicious. And Fitz starts to feel more relaxed with every minute. Jemma tells him more about herself and her family. He hears enough to know, that Jemma isn’t entirely satisfied with her life. She feels trapped. Feels like she has to play a role that was set for her since she was born.

When Jemma asks him about his family, Fitz startles. This is something he doesn’t talk about often. He hides the memories of his by now dead mother and his drunk, abusive father, who abandoned him, somewhere in the corners of his mind. To gather his thoughts, he first takes a sip of his wine. But because he starts to feel stressed again, his injury acts up. Fitz’s hand starts to shake, and he spills some wine. “Damnit,” he mumbles, getting angry at himself, quickly wiping his trousers with a napkin.

“Are you alright?” Jemma asks, sounding concerned.

Fitz’s stomach drops. He lowers his head to avoid her gaze. He really should tell her the truth already. It's inevitable.

He clears his throat, pointing at his head. “I … I have … I’m …” He makes a desperate noise.

Jemma just looks at him, still concerned, but there’s also a natural, friendly patience in her warm eyes.

Fitz breathes in deeply, trying to calm himself down.

“Brain injury,” he finally bursts out after a few more breaths, not sure if he should feel relieved or more ashamed. “I had a brain injury. It … it caused me, um, aphasia. Sometimes … the words are mixed up in my head. That’s why I speak so slowly, and … and sometimes start to, um, stammer. And my hand is shaking because of that too. It was long ago and I, I spent a long time in rehabilitation. I’m fine. Mostly. But sometimes, um, when I feel stressed, it all comes back.”

Jemma nods slowly. There’s no pity in her eyes and she doesn’t say that she’s sorry, which makes Fitz somehow glad. “What happened?” She asks carefully.

When he swallows nervously, she immediately adds, “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

Fitz shakes his head. “It’s alright. It has been long ago. I can talk about it. I … I was in a, a, a, um … a car accident. With, um, friends from university. We fell into the river. I was unconscious. My friend, Lance, he pulled me out. But I was underwater for too long. Was in a coma. For, um, nine days. When I woke up, I, I couldn’t talk. My life, as I knew it, it was over. And, and, I … I had to do all kind of therapy. I was a mess afterwards. I decided that I can’t … that I have to …” He looks away. This hurts. It reminds him of his spaceship sketches.  

“You canceled your studies,” Jemma states quietly. Her eyes are full of emotions now.

“Yes.” Fitz sighs. “I canceled the engineering studies I've just started and I, I … When I was out of rehab, I started to work in my grandfather’s bookshop. And when he died … well. I inherited it. And that’s it.” He smiles at her weakly. “It’s only me, the books and Gatsby now.”

Jemma nods thoughtfully.

“But your sketches,” she says carefully after some hesitance, her voice understanding. “You still want more, don’t you?”

Fitz swallows. It’s true. He still wants more. Sometimes, he lividly dreams of building spaceships, to discover all those hidden worlds out there. “Yeah … I thought I’m over it. Thought I’m okay with … with _this_ calm and peaceful life. But sometimes I realize, I’m just lying to myself. It’s actually like I’m hiding,” he says, looking down at his hands. “I’m hiding in this little bookshop, with my cat and my, my useless sketches that will never be more than that. Just … sketches.”

“But Fitz,” Jemma says. “It’s never too late to follow your dreams. You can still do something else. Something that makes you happier than this life.”

Fitz shakes his head. “I’m not … not … not enough … I can’t. My father, who was an alcoholic, always told me I’m worthless. And now that I’m stuttering, and my hand is shaking, I feel even more like a, a, a … like a failure. It won’t … work. I will mess it up.” To his shock, he feels tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, and quickly wipes his face.  
He didn’t know it still affects him this much. For so long, he kept those things to himself.

“But you can’t know if you don’t try,” Jemma tells him. “For failing something, you first have to start doing it, don’t you think?”

Fitz shrugs. He feels sad and slightly bitter now, but also strangely relieved. It felt good to share his thoughts with someone. Someone, who can understand. He stares at the ocean wistfully. Oh, in the past, he dreamed of crossing it. He dreamed of studying in the US, either staying at university afterwards, doing research, or working for some big company, building things that help people. But by now, the ocean seems too big. Impossible to cross …

Suddenly, Jemma reaches over the table, taking his bad hand into hers. Fitz startles a bit, looking at her in surprise. Her skin is warm and soft. She squeezes his hand lightly, looking at him warmly. “I think you’re perfect like you are,” she tells him seriously. “And I also think, that I’m in love with you, Fitz.”

Fitz’s breath falters. “You … you … I … I mean, I’m … Jemma,” he stammers helplessly. He pleads her with his eyes. And because there’s something magical between them, she understands. She leans over to him, kissing him softly. He kisses her back.

It feels so right. So real.

It’s perfect.

 

*

 

They start to go out every Saturday, after Jemma visits Fitz in his bookshop and he closes it.

They spend the evenings drinking coffee or having dinner, talking about themselves.

Jemma tells Fitz, that she loves books so much, because they are able to bring her to places far away from this world, that feels too small and ordinary for her. She loves to be able to dive into a whole new world, imagining she's the one travelling to Oz or Middle Earth. It makes her feel adventurous. Fitz likes how she feels about books, because it's almost the same for him.

One time, Jemma tells him her own big dream, that’s out of her reach.

“See, I want to do biochemistry since I’m 15 years old. But my family …” She snorts. “My parents don’t want me to go and study. They say basic education is enough for someone like me. They want me to help them on their farm forever. But … I don’t want that. It’s not who I am. It’s not what makes me happy. I feel like they don’t even want to understand to try to understand me. They don’t even know that we’re meeting, because I’m afraid they will get really angry. They always wanted me to marry this boy from the neighbour farm.” She shudders in barely hidden disgust.

“It’s your life. You should be allowed to do what makes you happy”, Fitz tells her.  

Jemma hums. “Just like you,” she says. “You should do what makes you happy too.”

They are silent for a moment, lost in thought.

“We could just leave, you know,” Jemma suddenly says. “We could leave this all behind, go to a big city and apply for the studies we want to do. You can go on with engineering. I can finally start with biochemistry. We can take Gatsby with us. And some books too. Start new somewhere else. Start being happy.”

Fitz stares at her, speechless.

She takes his hand, her eyes now sparkling in excitement. “Why not, Fitz? What is holding us back? It can only get better!”

But Fitz shakes his head. He feels the fear making his heart clench painfully. “I’m sorry, Jemma. I can’t. This is my life now,” he mumbles. I would only disappoint you and myself, he adds in his thoughts. He pushes his chair back almost hastily. “I have to, to go now. Gatsby didn’t have his, um … I have to feed him … Goodnight, Jemma.”

There’s disappointment in her eyes, when he leaves. And it hurts him. But he long accepted his fate. And it’s no use trying to change everything again just now. Yes, it could get better. But it also could get worse …

*

It’s Saturday, half past three.

Jemma doesn’t come.

Nervously, Fitz goes through his bookshop, distractedly searching for space for the new box of books he ordered.

He ruined it, didn’t he? Jemma has changed her mind. She doesn’t want to be with him anymore.

He said something wrong. It certainly is because he can't offer her a better life. Or it was his bloody stuttering. Somehow. Although she said he's perfect for her.

He takes another look at his watch. Almost four o’clock.

Sadly, he starts to gather his things, deciding to close the shop this evening.

He puts the leash on Gatsby, who meows unhappily, because Fitz disturbed him in his nap. “Come on,” Fitz tells him. “It’s no use staying here. She won’t come …”

 

Jemma doesn’t come the next Saturday either. She also doesn’t phone him. It’s like she’s gone.

Fitz feels empty in a whole new way.

 

*

 

Three weeks later, Jemma comes into his bookshop, crying.

Fitz can’t even be happy to see her, because she looks so utterly desperate, it hurts his soul.

“Jemma, what’s wrong?” He asks her, handing her a tissue, while she's craddling Gatsby to her chest, who's trying to comfort her with his soft purring.

“I can’t stay here,” she finally says, wiping her nose. “I can’t. I have to … I have to leave.” She looks up at Fitz, shaking her head. “Fitz … I couldn’t come here the last two weeks, because my parents didn’t want me to go. They already have a date for the wedding! They didn’t even tell me. They just … they think I have no saying in this. They think they can decide for me. It’s wrong. I'm not a child anymore. Yes, it's my family, but I don’t want this life! I don’t want to stay at that farm, being a quiet, well-behaved house wife!” She takes Fitz’s hands, looking at him pleadingly.   “Fitz, I love you. Please … please come with me. I will cross the ocean. I will start a new life in the US, starting to study biochemistry. Come with me. And go back to engineering. Don't be scared. Just do it. What do you have to lose?”

Fitz swallows. He looks around in his bookshop. His gaze falls on one of his sketches.

This life … he got used to it.

But it isn’t enough.

Not, when Jemma’s not in it.

He looks at her. “Okay. I won’t leave your side,” he tells her. “I will go wherever you go.”

Jemma sobs, hugging him. “I love you,” she whispers. “It’s going to be alright …”

Fitz lays his chin on her head. Closing his eyes. “I love you too …”

 

*

 

They’re standing at the railing of the ship, holding hands.

Behind them, lies fear and the worries of the past.

In front of them is courage and a whole new life.

Fitz has his sketches in his bag. Gatsby sits on his shoulder, staring at all the water with wide open eyes.

He side-eyes Jemma, who looks happy, and smiles.

They can do it. They can live their dreams.

The first step is done.

And their next steps don’t have to be big. They just have to take them in the right direction.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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